


they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

by LMoriarty



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Dirty Jokes, Episode: s01e06 Lethe, F/F, First Kiss, Light Angst, Post-Episode: s01e06 Lethe, not really tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 08:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13050264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LMoriarty/pseuds/LMoriarty
Summary: “It’s just that… you're really smart and you have a gorgeous smile and I’m sure I'm reading all the signs wrong, I tend to do that, but I really want to kiss you. Can I do that? If the signs are… real and there and I’m not just making them all up. Which is possible. Because you're stunning, have I mentioned that? You're just…” Tilly paused, took a deep breath to refill her lungs, and then concluded, “really, really pretty.”





	they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatAloneOne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatAloneOne/gifts).



Michael Burnham wasn't a killer.  
  
She wasn't. She joined Starfleet for one reason, and one reason only: _science_. If she couldn't get into the Vulcan Expeditionary Group — even though Michael graduated top of her class, even though she was awarded the Vulcan Scientific Legion of Honor, even though she was _qualified_  — then she would try harder, get better. If they didn't want her, she would find someplace that _did_.  
  
And that was Starfleet.  
  
It may have been Sarek who had pressured her to join, but Michael had been the one who chose to stay. And that was because of _science_.  
  
It had always been fascinating, for her. The way things worked. Some less-versed in the nature of Vulcans may have expected their clinical attitude to deprive her of her fascination, but in fact, that only made it grow. In science, either something was true, or it wasn't. It worked, or it didn't. There was only one answer. Science was _logical_ , and Vulcans prided themselves on being logical.  
  
_Michael_ prided herself on being logical.  
  
Human as she was, she was taken in by Vulcans, _raised_ by Vulcans. Her best was always just short of good enough, but that only made her want to try harder.  
  
The expeditionary group may have disagreed, _Sarek_ may have disagreed, but she was _good enough_ at science. This was something Michael was sure of.  
  
Not at being emotionless, nor at being a purely logical being. Not at being quick with her answers. She wasn't good enough at many things, when it came to Vulcans, because she _wasn't_ a Vulcan. Not even a little bit. But she was good enough at science.  
  
It was why Captain Georgiou had been so willing to accept her, why Lorca had accepted her at all— she was smart. And in wars like this, smart was deadly.  
  
Of course, in Michael's case, _smart_ was as much a prison sentence as it was a blessing.  
  
Being smart meant she was always good enough, to Starfleet. Being smart meant she never had to fight to get her superiors to listen to her. Being smart meant she could become commander, and later first officer. But being smart also meant that Michael realized the consequences of Klingons being nearby. Being smart meant that she was willing to go against her orders, and start — and, if she was lucky enough, also _end_ — a war.  
  
Being smart got Captain Georgiou killed.  
  
And the worst part wasn't the loss. It wasn't the mind numbing, soul crushing _ache_ that her death had created. The worst part was the fact that, if given the chance, Michael wouldn't have changed what she did. Because even if it didn't work, even if it wasn't the morally superior choice, even if it wasn't something Starfleet could ever condone... it was the right thing to do.  
  
This, of course, got her a life sentence.  
  
But it also gave her a new home. A new family — and that _is_ what Michael would eventually consider them. Lieutenant Stamets was like her weird cousin, Commander Saru like an older brother. Lorca would perhaps fall under the uncle category, and while she didn’t have a designation for Lieutenant Tyler yet, it was only a matter of time. As for Cadet Tilly...  
  
She was something else.  
  
Michael had no desire to put a label to her... feelings, but if she was forced to, she would settle for: more. Because it was true. Tilly was simply something _more_ than the rest of them.

It wasn't that she _meant_ more, per se, but Michael had grown increasingly fond of her. It didn't make sense. Michael had never felt anything like it before. But it had been there since day one— since she gave Tilly her mother's book, since before then. There was just something about her that Michael couldn't get enough of.  
  
Romantics might say it was her smile, or her laugh. Tilly _did_ have a nice laugh. But more than that... it was her _potential_. She was only a cadet, now, but one day she would be a captain. Michael was sure of that.  
  
She could only hope that she would be there to witness it happen, that she hadn't been transferred to some far away prison. Seeing Tilly move up the ranks — become a lieutenant, a commander, a first officer, and then a captain, something Michael had never, could never, achieve — would be an honor.

It would take time, of course. Tilly was still very new, but there was a reason she had been fast tracked through Starfleet Academy and it was because she was _good_. Tilly wasn't bragging, when she called herself the best theoretical engineer at the academy. She was just telling the _truth_.

Michael respected that about her.

And, even though Michael had committed mutiny, even though she had broken laws, even though Captain Georgiou had _died_ because of her… Tilly respected Michael, too.

It was nice.

The USS Discovery… was _nice_. It wasn't the same as the USS Shenzhou, not even a little bit, but Michael liked it all the same. At the very least, it was better than the prison she would've been at otherwise. (At the very most… it was _home_ ).

“You're staring at the wall again,” said Tilly, peering over at her from across the room. “What are you doing?”

“Thinking,” Michael told her. She didn't move, not even to look at her. Her eyes stayed on the wall.

Tilly laughed, and the sound was beautiful. Only the years she spent on Vulcan, learning to be emotionless, learning to _not care_ , were enough to stop Michael from smiling. “About…?”

“Things.”

“Well, _I’m_ thinking about _you_ ,” Tilly informed her. She sounded like she was smiling, although Michael couldn't be sure without glancing over. “And the fact that you _died_ , and never thought that was something I should know.”

Michael tore her eyes away from the wall. She looked at Tilly for a long, hard moment. “Why would it be something you needed to know?”

“Because...” Tilly floundered for a moment. “We're roommates! And that's something a roommate should know.”

“I don't know everything about you,” said Michael, which was true. She was constantly learning new things about Tilly. Just recently Michael had discovered she was fairly adept at beer pong. It was somewhat math based, however, and Tilly _was_ an engineer, so she really shouldn't have been surprised.

“Yeah, but I've never _died_ ,” countered Tilly. “And you have. For _three minutes_.”

“It was a long time ago,” Michael said.

She was silent again, weighing the pros and cons of continuing the conversation. She knew that Tilly wanted to know more about her, and part of Michael wanted that too. To have a confidant, someone she could talk to about anything. Someone like Captain Georgiou, now that Captain Georgiou was… gone.

Michael sighed.

“But I suppose I’ve had a lot of near death experiences, for someone stationed on a science vessel. The day we learned Klingons were back, I… almost died. I had gone out to examine their ship, and I was attacked. I won, but the shuttle was damaged, and I struggled to get back. The crew saved me, but I was unconscious for three hours, and I had radiation poisoning. It wasn't pleasant.”

“The day we learned Klingons were back,” repeated Tilly. She looked uncomfortable, like she wanted to say something but didn't know how. It took Michael a second to realize what.

“You may ask about it,” she told her. “I will not be offended.”

Tilly looked away, turned her gaze to the wall. Michael followed suit, albeit for different reasons. She wanted to create a feeling of disconnect, something that could give her a semblance of control back. Tilly, on the other hand, just didn't want to _look at her_ when they talked about… that day.

After a moment of silence, she asked, “Do you regret it?” Her voice was quiet, but easily heard in their still room. Had Michael still been looking at her, she would have noticed that Tilly’s face was slowly turning bright red.  “Do you regret what you did? What happened?”

“I… regret the consequences of my actions. The lives that were lost,” Michael told her, choosing each word carefully. “But if I could go back, I would do it again. I would try harder, to make sure nobody could stop me this time. If they had just let me finish—” she stopped, swallowed. Took a second to reign in her emotions, like a proper Vulcan. “If I hadn't been stopped, I believe I would have been able to destroy the ship. I believe I could have ended the war before it even started.”

Quietly, so quiet that Tilly hoped Michael wouldn't be able to hear, she murmured, “All those lives—”

“Eight thousand, one hundred and eighty-six people died that day, and that's on me,” said Michael. “I knew some of them. I cared for some of them. But others were strangers, people I had never met, people I probably never would have met. They didn't deserve to die, and I… wish I could have died in their places. But I didn't. And I can’t change that. I can’t go back. I have to live with my actions, because nothing can change what I did. There's no use pretending something could. This is life, now. I have to move forwards.”

Tilly stood, and made her way over to Michael’s bed. Up close, she was even prettier. Her eyes were more vibrant, her hair burning like fire. Being close to Tilly… changed things, somehow.

She sat down on the edge, careful not to bump into Michael. “I’m sorry,” she said, and held her gaze. Tilly’s sincerity was almost overwhelming. “I shouldn't have— I didn't mean to imply— I’m sorry. I’m _sorry_.”

“Don't be,” Michael told her. “I’ve never talked about it before, and I needed to say that. Thank you for listening.”

“I’ll always listen,” said Tilly. “I’m your roommate. I’m your _friend_. And I’m glad you're here, with me. I’m glad you didn't die.” She reached out, and when Michael didn't move away, Tilly placed her hand on Michael’s arm. It was warm and, in their cold room, she couldn't help but enjoy the change. “You're important to me.”

“To you,” echoed Michael. They were so close, now. It was… uncomfortable. Her stomach hurt.

“And to the crew,” added Tilly, quickly. “To Lieutenant Stamets, and Commander Saru, and everyone else. You're important to _us_.”

Michael glanced away. That… was what she wanted to hear, wasn't it? And yet she felt disappointed, almost. Like she had been hoping for something else.

“But also… yes,” she said, quieter. “To me.”

“I wasn't honest with you,” Michael said in response. “Not completely. There is… another reason I am not completely filled with regret. If I hadn't committed mutiny, I never would have met you.”

“Do you mean ‘you', as in, like, all of us?” asked Tilly. “Or ‘you’ as in _me_ , specifically, Sylvia Tilly, your roommate. Friend. Person sitting in front of you, touching your arm. That ‘you’?”

“I mean ‘you’, as in…” Michael hesitated, took a second to decide what she wanted to say. This was important. This was _everything_. “As in this very attractive redhead I know. Even when everyone hated me, and feared me, and wanted me dead, she accepted me. I never expected that sort of kindness here, but she barely even hesitated. It's the sign of a great friend… and the sign of a great leader. She’ll be a fantastic captain. And I care for her, deeply. My heart beats faster when she's near me. It's… unusual, and irrational, but—”

“I think that's called love.”

For a second, both of them were still. Love… sounded accurate, not that Michael had much to compare it to. But it was only for a second. All too soon, Tilly jerked her hand away from Michael’s arm, shifting further away, almost off the bed completely. “I’m sorry,” she said, nervously. “I didn't mean love, like, _love_. Just in a friend way, you know? Gal pals! But, er. Do you really think I’m attractive? Wait— don't answer that. I don't want to know. I mean, I do, but we’re roommates and there's probably rules against that sort of thing, and—”

“It's okay,” said Michael. “I shouldn't have said that. I don’t know what I was thinking, and I apologize.”

“What? No, I'm glad you said it, that was really nice to hear. Nobody's ever said something like that to me before,” Tilly insisted, inching closer again. In the rush to assure her, their knees pressed together and their hands somehow entwined. Michael wasn't entirely sure how it happened, but she had no complaints.

Tilly’s eyes shifted from her face down to their hands for one, two, three seconds, before she looked back up at Michael. She attempted to smile, but it ended up looking rather nervous. “It’s just that… you're really smart and you have a gorgeous smile and I’m sure I'm reading all the signs wrong, I tend to do that, but I really want to kiss you. Can I do that? If the signs are… real and there and I’m not just making them all up. Which is possible. Because you're stunning, have I mentioned that? You're just…” Tilly paused, took a deep breath to refill her lungs, and then concluded, “really, really pretty.”

“I’m not very good at… feelings,” confessed Michael. It was not a surprise to either of them. “Amanda and Sarek loved each other, and Amanda and my brothers loved me, but that was the only exposure I had to… love. I don’t know what to do, or how to do it, and it could be a complete disaster. But seeing Stamets and Culber, seeing how much they care for each other… I think I _want_ that. With you.” Michael smiled, and it lit up her face. She didn't smile often, but Tilly… had that effect on her. She made her _happy_. “The signs were real, and there, and you weren't just making them all up. So _yes_.”

For a moment, Tilly looked stunned, like she didn't believe this was really happening, like she thought it was all just a dream. And then it was like a switch had flipped, because she was leaning in, coming closer and closer and closer. It only lasted a second, but to Michael it felt like an eternity had passed before their lips finally met.

She didn’t deepen the kiss, although part of her had desperately wanted to. With their hands entwined and their mouths together, she couldn’t think of a time where she had ever been closer to someone, and Michael didn’t want to give this up, didn't want to ever pull away.

In the end, it was a relatively short kiss.

It only lasted a few seconds, maybe ten, although to Michael it felt entirely too long and not nearly long enough. That had nothing to do with the actual motion of mouth on mouth, gentle movements, slow pull back, and everything to do with the intimacy of the action.

Michael had never… kissed someone before. She didn't know how it was supposed to go. But this felt _right_.

 _Tilly_ felt right.

“Humans,” Michael said, contemplative, “are very good kissers. Good… technique.” It was not what she had meant to say, though perhaps that was a good thing. She wasn't sure if _I love you_ would've been appropriate. She wasn't even sure if it was _true_.

Not expecting her response, Tilly laughed, loudly. The realization that Michael — who could be monotonous at the best of times — was able to make her laugh without even trying was… incredible. “Well, how do Vulcans kiss, then?”

Michael held her hand up, middle and pointer fingers extended. Tilly copied her, face serious in a way that looked strange on the typically enthusiastic girl. Carefully, they pressed their fingers together, skin warm. Michael’s eyes fluttered shut, as if she was praying for something to happen.

Nothing did.

They were, after all, both human.

“Is something supposed to like… happen?” asked Tilly. “Not that I mind this, cause I don’t, but we’re _literally_ just holding our fingers together. It's kinda weird.”

“For Vulcans, it's a way of… melding minds. Their fingers are sensitive and minds always open, so the act is incredibly intimate,” Michael said. She pulled her hand away, disappointed. “I was hoping— it was foolish of me to think it would work.”

Tilly stilled. She looked pensive, as if searching for a way to lighten the mood. Finally her face lit up, and she said, grinning, “I can think of a better use for our fingers.”

Michael stared, blankly. “I can’t,” she said.

“...Really?” asked Tilly. Her lip twitched, like she was fighting off a smile. Michael couldn't think of why. “You can't think of… a single use that might be more fun? Possibly awkward the first few times, but I mean, it'll just get better and better.”

“Are you referring to—” Tilly beamed “—rock, paper, scissors? That's a very old game. I can't see it getting fun the more times we play; it seems like the opposite would be true.”

“Scissoring… is involved, according to the net,” she said, face turning redder by the second. Tilly waited a moment. When Michael didn’t say anything, completely lost, she sighed and added, “Sex. I’m talking about sex.”

“Oh,” said Michael. “Isn’t it a bit… early for that? We’ve only just kissed.” She knew it was hypocritical of her. Michael had thought the words ‘I love you’ only moments before, but somehow that was… different. Of _course_ it was different. Michael had loved people before— not like _this_ , but loved nevertheless. She'd never… had sex. She'd never even _thought_ about having sex.

While Tilly would no doubt be a fantastic partner in bed, Michael wasn't sure she was ready to take that step in their just formed relationship.

Somehow, Tilly’s face had gotten even redder in the time it took to form her reply. “I was joking. That was… a joke. I don't expect us to— or for you to— I mean unless you wanted— but you clearly don't because you just said it was a bit early for that so, ah. Joke. Ha-ha, funny, just kidding,” she stammered. “Um— at some point we should probably talk about it, though. Sex. So we know… when we’d be ready. To do that. Bang. But not right now! Because it's late and we’re both probably tired and—”

“I’m not tired,” said Michael, helpfully.

Tilly stared at her. “ _Seriously_?” she asked. “I mean, um. I am. Tired. So I'm going to… sleep, and stuff. Stuff as in sleep, not stuff as in sex, just so that's. Clear. Yeah, I'm going to… go back to my bed. It's been a nice chat. Love— er. _Not_. Not… that. Not love. Like? Like you.” Tilly pulled away from Michael, out of her grasp, out of her bed. “Night, Michael.”

“I like you too,” she said, watching in bemusement as Tilly made her way across the room and to her own bed. The cadet slid under her covers, curling up to face the wall beside her. Normally she faced the other way, to look at Michael, but perhaps she was too embarrassed now. Michael couldn't blame her, if she was. She probably would be too, had she been the one in her position. “Computer, lights off,” she murmured, and then, softer, “Goodnight, Sylvia.”

As their lights flickered off, Michael smiled into the darkness. She may have joined Starfleet for science, but she would _stay_ for Tilly.

**Author's Note:**

> i blame aether for everything, but specifically "i can think of a better use for our fingers", because she came up w that


End file.
